I was picking up some Christmas decorations for church at one of those big Christmas shops, when I espied a huge inflatable dragon standing among the santas and snowmen and reindeer. Not having seen a dragon before in the cast of Christmas characters, I asked the attendant, who shook her head and smiled and shrugged her shoulders. I wondered if the local football team, whose clubhouse sits across the road, had planted its mascot; but the dragon was green, and theirs is red.

It was only when I returned to the car that I made the connection. In the twelfth chapter of the final book of the Bible, The Revelation given to the Apostle John, a picture is drawn of a woman giving birth to a male child; and horror of horrors, poised and waiting for the child’s delivery is a great red dragon. It’s a terrifying scene, and the situation looks hopeless for the mother and child.

But then more in the story is unveiled, and the child is not only safely delivered, but caught up to the throne of heaven. The dragon is thwarted, and by the end of the book, is hunted down, humiliated and caged forever. The Book of Revelation is a hard one. Most probably it’s a collage of colourful and dramatic scenes depicting spiritual battles, but the overall message is clear and unmistakable. In the end the Lamb wins. And that Lamb is none other than the child who was born for us at Christmastime.